


a twice-told tale

by sparklyturtle



Series: the modern way [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Deaf Character, Harry Potter Next Generation, Harry is stressed™, Next Gen, Next Generation, Post Hogwarts, Post War, Weasley Family, brexit-related, harry and neville are cardigan-wearing teacher bros, magical politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-10-17 20:17:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17567267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklyturtle/pseuds/sparklyturtle
Summary: Harry touches his lightning scar and reminds himself it hasn’t hurt again for years. All is well. A quiet voice inside his head wonders bitterly: “Is it, really?”





	1. Later.

Sirens blare near Holford Gardens, hammering echoes along Wicklow Street and a Ford Focus sits in traffic on the A501 in the early Autumn sunshine. 

“...leaving three dead and fifteen seriously injured,” Lee Jordan’s voice calls through the speaker. “The whereabouts of this masked assailant are still unknown, though the attack is thought to be linked to-”

With a groan, Harry Potter flicks the switch on the car radio. He can see Ginny watching him in his peripheral vision, and is very aware of his sons’ eyes boring into the back of his head. He spares a glance at the side-mirror, seeing Jamie throwing a wary look at his brother. Harry sighs, looking into the rear-view to see Lily nodding along to her own little tune. At least one of the kids remained unaware.

“We’d have been quicker walking,” Harry says, glowering as they come to a stop at the bottom of Weston Rise. “It’s only a bloody ten minute walk from home, it’s taken that just to get here-”

“Ru has all his new stuff,” Ginny reasons, nostrils flared. “He couldn’t haul it all-”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” Harry sighs, taking a deep breath and giving her a half-smile. “I’m just a bit-”

“I know, love,” she says, reaching over to rub the back of his neck.

“The scarf will really suit you,” Harry hears Jamie say in the back. “The green’ll really bring out your eyes-”

“Jamie,” Harry warns, glaring into the rear-view at his eldest. “Leave off.”

“I’m just saying-”

“You’re just saying nothing because you’re going to keep quiet until we get there.”

“But, dad-”

_ “James.” _

The car goes silent. The boys have long since learned that the use of their full names meant their dad was well and truly annoyed, so Jamie sinks back into his seat, head down to avoid his father’s eye in the mirror.

Ginny’s frowning to Harry’s left, but whether it’s directed at him, their son, or just a general frown towards the state of the world, he can’t be sure. He’d been noticing that a lot lately, he thinks as the lights finally turn green. Her brow always furrowed, the creases on her forehead becoming more constant with each reported attack.

Harry sighs again as he turns in the entrance of King’s Cross. The boys stay quiet as he parks, Ru tensed up on the left and Jamie only moving to knock his knee against Lily’s leg. Harry sees him wink at her in the mirror, and softens a bit. 

With a turn of the key, the car chugs to a stop and off, but no one makes a move. Harry and Ginny exchange a glance before nodding and stepping out in unison. Within minutes, the family are making their way through the station, accompanied by two trollies laden with heavy trunks and creatures. Lily sits on top of Jamie’s case, carefully holding Eggy’s cage on her lap. The tawny preens as she reaches in to smooth out his feathers, and Harry wonders whether the child would miss the owl or her brother more until Christmas. 

Ginny stays at Ru’s side, one hand hovering as he pushes his trolly in a mild zigzag pattern. He’d insisted he’d manage, but a bit of caution never hurt anyone, as Molly so often reminded her raudy grandchildren. 

The muggle end is busy and filled with the typical peculiar looks often directed at a family carrying a large owl and a cat through a train station. Nevertheless, they reach the pillar between Platforms 9 and 10 with relative ease, Lily choosing this as the time to hop down and take her mother’s hand to run through the wall. 

Harry takes a hold of Ru’s handle and giving him a hand to push through (He still had a scar on his right cheek from running into that wall, so maybe he was paranoid, sure). They emerge into a packed platform, filled with people in frilly robes and pointy hats. Sparklers embossed with a large  _ W  _ fly overhead, and Harry can’t help but grin as he moves his hand to his son’s shoulder. They get maybe three steps away from the wall before Ru freezes on the spot, simply unable to move. Jamie turns and opens his mouth to speak, but his mother’s firm hand on his back pushes him onwards before his can say something to worsen the situation.

With a crack of his knees, Harry crouches down to his hunkers, leaving him eye-level with his son, green matching green. Some may argue that Harry had spat out his middle child, and while usually he’d claim otherwise, up close Harry couldn’t deny it. (Put a pair of glasses on him, and you’d say he were a well-fed version of the resident of No. 4, Privet Drive)

“Well?” Harry raises an eyebrow.

“What if Jamie’s right?” the boy asks, looking more terrified and teary-eyed than Harry had seen him since he’d been cornered by a gnome in the Burrow’s garden when he was three. “What if I do wind up in…”

His eyes drift off to his left, where a crowd of sixth year Slytherins stand trading stories of five-star holidays. 

“So what if you do?” Harry smiles, nudging Ru’s head back to face his own. “Means you don’t have to deal with as many cousins as usual or Jamie’s smelly socks-”

“But they’re all  _ bad _ ,” Ru grimaces, his eyes glossing over. “If I’m one of  _ them _ then that means-”

“Now, listen, alright,” his dad says sternly, taking on his hands in his own. “There’s no ‘them’, there’s no ‘bad house’ and there’s none of this nonsense about you being a bad person, okay?”

“But-”

“No buts,” Harry says, staring hard into his son’s eyes. “There have been plenty of bad people to come from Gryffindor, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, Rubeus.”

Ru’s eyes widen, but he nods all the same.

“Nana won’t like you saying that.”

Harry snorts, pulling his son into a hug and squeezing tight. “What Nana doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” he whispers as Ru rubs his nose against his shoulder. 

“Thanks, dad,” the boy whispers in return, before pulling back. Harry stands back to his feet with another creak of his joints, and together they push the wonky trolly towards the crowd of gingers further down the platform. 

“-it just seems too quick, doesn’t it?” Hermione’s saying, her back to Harry and Ru. Rosie stands in front of her, grinning as her godfather sticks his tongue out at her.

“Getting teary on us, Mione?” Harry asks, appearing over her shoulder and making her jump. “I know you’ll miss me, but I’m only gone until Christmas-”

“Someday you’ll sneak up on me and get hexed, Potter,” she warns, but the smile on her lips says otherwise. “Hi, sweetheart, all set?” she smiles at Ru, throwing an arm around his shoulders and giving a little squeeze when he wheezes in response.

“She’s been very emotional lately,” Ron says with a wink at his nephew as he slides in beside Harry. “Was in hysterics about my driving test the other day. She thinks I charmed the instructor into passing me-”

“I never said that.”

“-but who needs to be perfect on corners, anyways?”

Harry snickers, but carefully keeps one hand close to Ru’s, just to be safe.

“I want to go  _ now _ ,” Lily complains to her mother, Hugo planted firmly beside her and nodding aggressively in agreement. “Two years is forever away-”

“It’s time enough,” Ginny laughs, “You’ll be there for long enough, Lil.”

“Jamie vanished before we could say ‘hello’,” Hermione informs Harry. “Finding a cabin is apparently very important business-”

She comes to a halt as they become very aware of a group of children and parents alike are watching them and speaking in hushed tones. Harry can’t help the hairs standing up on the back of his neck, sudden paranoia seeping in.

“Why are they all staring?” Hugo asks, frowning at the gawking children on the train.

“It’s just me,” Ron says, flinging back his thinning hair. “I’m incredibly famous.”

Ru giggles at that and Harry throws a thankful look at his friend as Jamie comes sprinting towards them.

“Teddy!” he cries, bursting into the centre of the group. “He’s on- and he’s- and Vicky- and he’s-”

“Breathe,” Ginny reminds him, pushing his glasses back up his nose for him. “Then talk.”

“ _ Teddy’s snogging Victoire!”  _ he yells, throwing his hands into the air. “ _ Our  _ Teddy- Teddy Lupin- with  _ our  _ Victoire-”

“And how do you know that?” Ginny raises an eyebrow.

“I saw them,” Jamie shrugs. “And Vicky told me to get lost-”

“God, you’re worse than Ron-”

“Oi.”

“Wouldn’t it be lovely if they get married?” Lily says dreamily. “Then Teddy will be proper family-”

“And he can move in!” Jamie says excitedly. “He can go in my room, and I’ll share with Ru and he-”

“No one’s sharing rooms,” Harry says, shaking his head. “Let Teddy be, Jamie, don’t go snooping.”

There’s a yell and suddenly people are boarding the train. Jamie grimaces as his mother plants a kiss on his cheek before waving goodbye and sprinting off again. Hermione grabs Rosie and squeezes her so tight that Harry doubts she can breathe properly, while Ron hurriedly rubs tears from his eyes. 

Ru hugs Ginny goodbye, nodding as she holds his face in her hands and gives words of encouragement. Lily begrudgingly hugs him, but the smiles they share are genuine as is the ‘good luck’ drawing she places in his hand. 

“It’s you as Seeker,” she whispers. “Teddy helped me so the uniform’ll change colours to be the same as your house.”

Ginny and Harry smile softly at each other as the siblings embrace again, this time with Ru squeezing with every bit of strength he has to offer. Harry plants a hand on Ru’s head and ruffles his pre-messed hair. 

“See you later, mate,” he winks at the worried face presented to him. “Me and Nev’ll be right there, alright?” 

Ru nods, and with a tug on his sleeve from Rosie the two vanish into the crowds of students bustling onto the train. A flash of blue hair appears in the crowd momentarily, before a pink-faced Teddy appears at Harry’s side.

“Wotcher, Hazza.”

Harry doesn’t say a word, just half-smiles and raises an eyebrow as he takes in his godson’s dishevelled appearance. Wonky t-shirt collar, the hood of his jacket over one shoulder and a red stain on his mouth as his hair turns a lovely shade of pink- fuschia, Harry reckons. 

Ron’s elbow is sharp in his side, followed by a nod in the direction of one of the compartments. The window’s foggy, and the steam of the train engine isn’t helping, but Harry can just about make out the Dark Marks emblazoned on some of the students’ shirts. He grimaces as a shiver runs down his spine.

“Hermione’s been getting howlers,” Ron says quietly as Teddy goes to Lily and Hugo. Ginny’s standing chatting with another mother, someone Harry doesn’t really recognise, as they wave off the train. “Nasty ones-”

“They’re nothing I can’t handle,” Hermione says, matching her husband’s pitch. “I’ve dealt with much worse, Ron-”

“Death threats,” Ron growls at Harry. “She’s being left in tears with every delivery and the nightmares-”

“Ron-”

“Some of them have been that- that  _ disgusting  _ and  _ twisted _ , Harry,” he says, glowering. “Her nightmares are back as bad as ever.”

“Oh, Mione,” Harry says softly, taking her free hand in his own. “Why-”

“It’s  _ manageable _ , Harry,” she insists, sniffling as she stares straight ahead and continues to wave. 

“Shouldn’t be anything to manage,” Ron snarls, nostrils flaring. “All this nonsense should be long in the past.”

Harry can only nod in response, raising a hand to wave at the boys briefly as the train pulls away, the hand coming to land faintly against his scar.

 

It had not pained him for nineteen years, but all was not well. 


	2. not in the stars to hold our destiny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't poetry so i'll apologise in advance.

“There’s no need, I’m fine on my own.”

“It’d be safer, please-”

“I can protect myself, I don’t need to be babied-”

“I’m not babying you, Teddy,” Harry snaps, slamming the boot closed. “I’d feel a lot better knowing you were all together just for now.”

“ _ Hazza _ ,” Teddy sighs, rolling his eyes. “We’re not going to get attacked because I don’t go back to Grimmauld Place, there’s noth-”

“ _ Please _ , Ted, just go along with me for once,” Harry says, half-smiling as his godson’s hair turns a murky lavender colour. He’s unimpressed, but nods with a begrudging sigh.

“Where are you meeting Neville?” Ginny asks, choosing to change the subject as she throws her bag into the backseat of the now empty car.

“Think I’m gonna go on my own, actually,” Harry says, frowning. “Might get the train from Liverpool, instead.”

He catches Ginny and Teddy sharing a quick, confused glance as he reaches down for the handle of his trunk. 

“It’ll be a long day,” he reasons, shrugging nonchalantly. “I just want a few hours to…  _ chillax _ , y’know?”

His godson remarks that his “nineties are showing”. Lilly, at least, giggles as her mother looks on, unconvinced.

“Right then, c’mere,” he says, opening his arms to Teddy. The teen rolls his eyes but hugs Harry without hesitation. “Anything happens-”

“I know where you are,” Teddy says, eye to eye with him. He’s gotten remarkably grown-up looking this summer, Harry suddenly notices. (A horrible thought echoes in the back of his head that he may be forced to grow up more.)

“Exactly,” Harry winks. “But I guess you’ll be sneaking in to see Victoire, anyways.”

Teddy goes bright red, the ends of his hair spiking as he nods curtly in response.

Lilly needs no invitation to jump into her father’s arms. She’s probably too big to be lifted by this stage and Harry’ll probably have terrible back trouble in the future from carrying his nine-year-old like a toddler, but she’s the baby. He couldn’t argue.

“Right,” he says, squeezing her tight against his chest as her legs hover just above ground. She’s tall for her age, but still too young to tell if she’s all knobbly Potter-knees or pure Weasley long-and-lanky. (Even if everyone claims she’s on her mother’s side, Harry keeps a little hope for her red-not-ginger hair to be an Evans trait). “You’re the boss while I’m gone, so I need you to look after mum, ok?”

“I’ll make sure she’s ‘kay,” the child nods seriously, before planting a kiss on her father’s scar, just as she always does, before wriggling out of his grasp to jump back to the ground. 

Ginny’s standing off to the side of the car, her left hand hovering over her wand pocket, too battle-ready for a normal day. She looks tired now that the boys are gone, staring wide-eyed and unseeing into the distance just over Harry’s right shoulder.

Proving his Lilly-wrangling skills, Teddy swiftly ushers her into the car with another wink at his godfather. (He’d grown up witnessing these vacant moments of Ginny’s after the war, Harry knows.)

“Alright?”

She jumps a bit, suddenly aware of his presence, and nods.

“Just… worried.”

“Ru’ll be alright once he gets settled,” Harry shrugs, knowing full-well she’d meant something else entirely.

“He won’t get too settled if another war breaks out,” she snaps, nostrils flaring again.

There are moments like these that Harry wants to run away. Moments like these raise a feeling of panic and anxiety from a deep well in the pit of his stomach, one he thought he’d long since covered. Moments of Ginny’s stoicism and battleborn awareness that cause a horrible voice in the back of his mind to wish for a wife who hadn’t witnessed a war, who had no clue what a Death Eater was. One who wasn’t hot-wired to be aware of hostile and suspicious situations. (He’d learned a long time ago, when he’d vanished those years after the war, that no one else would do for him, but the voice sometimes appeared, nonetheless).

“We don’t know that will happen, Gin.”

“We don’t know it won’t,” she snaps, turning to face him with glassy eyes. “From the first day I saw a Carrow hurt a student I told myself that I’d never send a child of mine on that train if I knew they were facing hurt and horror at the end of the journey. What am I after doing, Harry?”

“They’re safe in Hogwarts, you know that,” he says solemnly, taking a step closer to her. “Flitwick would never let any harm-”

“That’s what everyone always said about Dumbledore,” Ginny spits. “And look at how he treated you.”

Harry exhales deeply, pushing down any backlash which rises in his throat. 

“Filius isn’t Dumbledore, as well you know.”

She shakes her head, dejected. Her eyes are welling up at this point, tears threatening to fall down her face.

“I can’t bury a child, Harry,” she whispers, staring intensely into his eyes. “I’ve seen what that does to people-”

“ _ Merlin,  _ Ginny-”

“If something happened to any of them because a gang of idiots decided torture and evil were funny-”

“Nothing’s happening to them, darling,” Harry swears, pulling her into his chest as she breaks down. “No one will lay a  _ finger  _ on them, never mind a wand.”

She’s clinging to his shirt as he plants a kiss on her head. People bustle about around them in the September afternoon sun. Muggles strolling along pathways, occasional witches and wizards pass by with a strange glance to see what the Chosen One was doing and wondering why he drove a Ford. 

“Being the Boy Who Lived still scares people a bit,” Harry whispers in her ear. “So it’ll make threatening little shits a bit easier.”

Ginny snorts into his shirt, squeezing his waist a bit tighter. 

“No threatening minors,” she warns half-heartedly. “Seventh years only.”

“Yes, boss,” Harry grins into her hair, resting his chin on her head. 

They stand for another moment, just holding each other while Lilly loudly questions Teddy in the car about his plans to wed her eldest cousin. Eventually, Ginny pulls away, stepping back and holding her husband’s hands instead.

“Be careful, though.”

“I think I can manage-”

“I’m  _ serious _ , Harry. Watch out for anything.”

“I know, I know,” he nods, pecking her on the lips. “You too.”

They pull apart, Ginny quickly wiping her eyes and offering a small smile as she reaches up to pat his cheek.

“See you soon, Potter.”

 

-

 

Liverpool seems quiet, Harry thinks as he apparates behind the Royal Hospital. He steadies himself, patting the tousled hair atop his head to settle it. (It always went a bit wild when he disapparated, no amount of his grandfather’s magic remedy could prevent that, he’d learned).

He strolls down past the university, earning a few peculiar glances from young students as he pulls his trunk along. A woman with a pram stops as he approaches her on the path, mouth wide open as he offers a small “hullo”. There’s an elderly couple pulling a trolley of Aldi bags across the road, and the man bellows over that “it’s an honour, mate, hones’ly”. Harry grins and waves back with the experience of almost thirty years in the limelight. 

Lime Street is half-empty, save for a few people with suits and briefcases bustling to and fro as a few scruffy-looking student’s pull huge suitcases off the train as they prepare for a new term. The Abbotts come from somewhere around here, Harry realises as he steps towards a ticket machine, but he can’t recall where exactly.

He chooses  _ Virgin  _ to travel with, mainly because Richard Branson excites Arthur Weasley a great deal with all his talk of hotels in space. (A part of him chooses based on their ad with that  _ Spandau Ballet  _ song, because he’d discovered long ago that Remus had had an awful soft spot for Tony Hadley). 

In the time it takes Harry to load his trunk onto the overhead compartment it becomes apparent that it’d be a lonely journey north. There’s one young man sat near the top door of the carriage, tapping away on a laptop (Harry notices a Corbyn sticker on the back of it, and prays an opposing passenger doesn’t notice). Another man sits closer, burrowed into his seat with an anorak thrown over him as he naps, but Harry remains wary, ensuring his wand is resting on his lap before settling in. 

As the train hurtles through Yorkshire and the Lake District, Harry chews on his nails and worries. These past few months had left him feeling more shaken that he’d care to admit, more shaken than he’d been in a long time. It was bad enough that the British Muggle population had decided to self-destruct- the last thing anyone needed was the Wizarding population to turn on itself again.

These past few months, witches and wizards across the globe had proven themselves once more, choosing to hide behind muggle acts of hate and brutality as a cover while they did worse themselves. Lee Jordan and his crew were run ragged trying to keep up with news of riots and attacks and Death Eater-esque acts taking place up and down the country each day, and Harry, for one, was exhausted.

Few things could scare him as much as Hermione panicking, so seeing her trying to stifle her own fear this morning had his nerves fried. What was anyone achieving, he wonders as he accepts a styrofoam cup of coffee from the trolley lady, by sending death threats to Ministry staff? Whatever did someone get from being a pillock for no reason?

By the time the train crosses into Scotland, he’s finished his coffee and made himself angry thinking about the nonsense of this  _ situation _ , as he’d heard the Minister for Magic say about a Pureblood rally in Manchester last month. He considers pulling out his class plans to review for tomorrow, but he also considers sleeping until Aberdeen. 

The latter option wins. 

 

-

 

A loud snore wakes Harry just before they pull into Aberdeen, but whether it’s his own or that of the man with the anorak, he can’t tell. 

The platform for Hogsmeade is slightly awkward to reach, which is understandable considering it  _ is  _ the only entirely non-muggle area in the country (Hermione had tried to lead a discussion in the Ministry a few years ago, back when she’d first got her foot in the door, that maybe this wasn’t a healthy environment and that it was potentially contributing to the whole pureblood ideology thing, but she was quickly told to keep quiet). Out the back of the station, a little old man in a strange cap operates the door to the platform, which then leads underneath the harbour, where a two-carriage train sits, and the track only emerges above ground near the airport. Although, it probably doesn’t help Harry’s opinion that everyone in these two carriages choose to spend the half-hour journey staring at him and muttering to one another about him. 

The first sight that meets him as he unboards in Hogsmeade is a large Dark Mark spray-painted on the station wall. Harry’s blood runs cold, his eyes wide as the two men painting it over nod at him and promise it’ll be fixed “before the wee ‘uns arrive, Misser Po’er, dun’t worry”. He appreciates the thought, but the fact that this was now appearing in the heart of magical Britain, so close to the school, is hard to process. 

The thestral carriage he grabs stops just outside the main door of the school and a collection of House Elves race out to help him with his case. Enchanted brooms swirl about with last-minute adjustments for the oncoming students as the battered watch on his wrist informs Harry that it's half four and the older students should be arriving within the next hour. Panic begins to rise in the back of his throat as he wonders whether the painters will he finished by their arrival. He dreads to think how that would impact a crowd of eleven-year-olds. 

It’s quiet for now, though, and he takes the opportunity to wander up to his quarters. 

 

-

 

Flitwick is all too eager to introduce their newest faculty members while they wait for the students to file into the Great Hall. Harry and Neville stand together to the side, cautiously watching as the latest additions smile awkwardly.

All-told, they’re not entirely sure what to make of them. Stefan Ainsley is young and cocky, too brash for Harry’s liking, and Neville’s remark that he seems to have taken a leaf from Lockhart’s book causes him to choke on his pumpkin juice. 

Tully is cold and clever, questions in her eyes and magic in her fingers. Harry had often heard rumours of  _ odd  _ teaching methods in Airmead , but he’d never met a Tara native before. He’s wary of her until she mentions her neighbour, Declan Quigley- one of the beaters of the members of the famed 1994 Irish team- and suddenly Harry’s a fan. 

The first years are led into the hall by Professor Kowalska, and Harry can’t help but snicker at the few sitting students who swoon as she passes. He recognises a few noses, a couple of nervous smiles as the new children file out and await the famed ceremony. 

The crinkled old hat sits atop the same wooden stool it had sat on for the past hundred years. This ceremony, Harry had learned in recent years as a teacher, was a singular thing, and no other school dealt with sorting in even vaguely the same way. As the Hat reels back to begin its song, Harry sees Ru wobbling in the middle of the crowd, wide-eyed and green-faced. He worries as the song begins.

 

_ Oh, I’ve seen so many faces, _

_ Seen so much time gone by. _

_ I’ve seen such falls and graces, _

_ I wouldn’t bat an eye. _

 

_ You children stand before me, _

_ Afraid of what’s to come.  _

_ You think I’m sad and ugly, _

_ But wonders, I have some. _

 

_ I see inside your head, you see, _

_ To wonders deep and dark. _

_ To learn which house you should belong, _

_ Though my choice you may find stark. _

 

_ Be it Gryffindor, so brave and bold,  _

_ A home of those so strong. _

_ Branded in their red and gold, _

_ They scarce see if they’re wrong. _

 

_ Perhaps Slytherin is home to you, _

_ Where cunning matters so. _

_ Ideas in their bones so true _

_ And ambitions never low. _

 

_ Or Ravenclaw, with brains so bright _

_ Where thoughts and dreams run wild. _

_ Mayhaps you’ll find your cause and fight _

_ As your mind is beguiled.  _

 

_ And maybe it’s good old Hufflepuff,  _

_ the home of those so true. _

_ Be good, be kind, be tough, they say,  _

_ But is this the place for you? _

 

_ I let you wonder all these things as something else goes on. _

_ You see, my dears, we find ourselves nearing chaotic war.  _

_ These times, there’s those with minds so dark who feel so called upon. _

_ No reason for their prejudice, just hatred at their core. _

_ So I’ll urge you to be vigilant and help others to be strong. _

_ Such times as these we band together, and prove that we are more. _

 

_ So enjoy your time in this strange place, so old yet so brand new, _

_ So many faces it has seen, yet joyed to learn your face.  _

_ Wherever you may find yourself, let magic guide you through, _

_ Brave, cunning, bright, and kind, you’ll surely earn your place.  _

 

“I think it’s finally losing its touch,” Neville whispers as the hall claps politely. 

“We will begin,  _ więc _ ?” Kowalska calls as she steps gracefully towards the front. She’d put Fleur to shame, Harry thinks to himself, so tall and elegant in carefully tailored robes. Magda was a drastic change when brought in as McGonagall’s replacement, her grace and decadence a stark contrast to the latter’s practicality and sternness.

She clears her throat once, and a silence falls across the hall. Unfurling a scroll of parchment, she begins to call names, beckoning “Barrowman, Ingrid” forward, who comes as a mess of pointy elbows and oversized robes. She rubs anxiously at a patch on her forearm as she sits, and within a second the hat bellows “ _ HUFFLEPUFF!”  _ and a new class of Hogwarts begins.

Sitting angled in his seat at the top table, Harry keeps a keen eye on his youngest son, standing cowering among the dwindling crowd. Ru had been his parents’ little worry since the day he was born, always quiet and self-aware compared to his brash and outgoing brother. Being surrounded by a gaggle of loud cousins had never overly suited Ru, as at family gatherings he was usually found out the back of the Burrow trying to trap the gnomes.

The only worry Harry had ever had about Jamie was wondering what trouble he’d make and stupid things he’d do. His eldest toed the line too closely with his namesake, in ways (though if Harry ever caught him messing up his hair on purpose and posing he’d have to take action, he reckons). Even Lilly, despite her issues, always seems to get on well, full of Bill’s charm and Gin’s charisma even at a young age. 

He worries about his goddaughter, too, with her stubbornness and pretentious tendencies. Rosie stands to Ru’s side, tall and proud, equal amounts Ron and Hermione as he watches her.  (Never would he mention it to them, but he’d often dreaded Rosie isolating herself the same way Mione had in school. He’d hate to think she’d need a staged troll-attack to make friends.)

By the time Harry snaps out of his thoughts, Kowalska’s already shooing off “Olorunniwo, Josh” to the Ravenclaw table and beckoning “Potter, Rubeus” forward. An audible squeak comes from the crowd as Jamie’s head promptly pops up from somewhere along the Gryffindor table. He’s wearing his glasses for once, and Harry can’t decide if it’s a good thing or not that he’d deemed his brother’s sorting a worthy cause. 

Ru stumbles slightly coming up the steps, and as he approaches Harry can see how unwell the poor child looks. (He’d always bottled up his worries until they ate away at him, from the time he’d accidentally broken Ginny’s Quidditch goggles and had been off school with a stomach ache for three days before telling them.) Harry can only grin and wink again when they make eye-contact, but he hardly believes it does his son any good. Ru perches on the edge of the stool and inhales deeply as the hat covers his eyes. 

He glances sideways, finding Neville nibbling anxiously at his nails directly to his left. Further down, he spots Jamie and Vic having a whisper-argument across the hall, the latter gesturing wildly as her little cousin stares incoherently. 

The hat’s taking too long, Harry thinks, suddenly going back to his own sorting. A hat-stall isn’t unheard of, but surely the old sack could tell the boy was sick with anxiety and could speed up the proce-

_ “SLYTHERIN!” _

An unsure cheer comes from the other side of the hall, half-happy at the fame and half-confused at the known heritage. Ru’s shoulders visibly slump before Magda can even lift the hat, and he keeps his gaze firmly on the ground as he speeds to his new table. 

(Across the hall, half-Weasleys exchange shocked glances and even from here, Harry can see Jamie’s glasses have fogged up.)

“He’ll have Bastian as Head of House,” Neville leans in to whisper, nodding towards the Care of Magical Creatures teacher who’s now carefully watching Harry’s son twiddle his thumbs. “Filius only appointed him this morning, but that’ll be nice for him.”

Harry doesn’t respond, can’t respond, feeling a burning sensation in his stomach as, despite how changed the house is now, his mind throws back to the Slytherin of twenty years ago. It’s not the same, his common sense calls, while his anxiety recalls the Dark Mark in Hogsmeade. 

“Oi,” Neville tugs at his sleeve to catch his attention. “It’s just a house, they’re just kids. He’s gonna be fine, alright?”

Harry half-nods, smiling absentmindedly when Rosie turns round to smile before running off to join a waiting Vic at the Ravenclaw table. She’ll enjoy that, he thinks as his eyes quickly turn to the right and to the hunched pair of shoulders facing him. 

“He’ll have quidditch,” he mutters to Neville, who nods enthusiastically as the final “Young, Kaia” saunters into Gryffindor. “Slytherin go through Seekers at a rate of knots, he’ll be playing by Christmas.”

Scorpius Malfoy sits across from Ru, a nasty grin playing on his lips, and Harry struggles to find another silver lining. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~also pronunciation "ar-med" for Airmead.


End file.
